Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything you recognize.
A/N: Once again, thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing!
It was close to eleven by the time Lizzy and Paul arrived at Paul's apartment building. They didn't want to disturb Paul's mother, who was sleeping after coming home from an exhausting shift at work. So, they settled for one of their much loved spots, which was the roof of the building. The door that led to the roof was usually locked, but tonight it wasn't, so they waltzed right on up there. Paul had grabbed a blanket from his room, which he spread out on the ground so they wouldn't have to sit on the dirty cement.
Lizzy set her messenger bag down by the blanket, then walked to the opposite side of the roof to see the view of the ocean. The waves were crashing on the shore in the silvery moonlight, the calming sound only a faint whisper. Stars dotted the blue-black sky, so close that they seemed almost within reach. Lizzy stood there, at peace, the light breeze blowing her chocolate brown hair away from her face. The temperature had dropped a little, but it wasn't terribly cold. If had been chilly, she wouldn't have cared; Lizzy loved to be outside in the fresh air. To her, it was an exhilarating freedom.
Heaving a contented sigh, she ambled back to Paul, who was lying down propped up on one elbow, inspecting the pick he'd received from JoJo. Lizzy opened up her messenger bag and fished out her sketchpad and a pencil. Her eyes moved from her best friend to the paper, back and forth, drawing the outlines of what would become a sketch of Paul and his new guitar pick.
"I got an acceptance letter today." she stated suddenly, while trying to get Paul's eyes drawn right.
"Yeah? Where from?" Paul asked, shifting positions. Lizzy groaned.
"Don't move." she giggled. Paul, not realizing that she had been drawing him, quickly went back to his original position.
"The School of Visual Arts in Manhattan."
"No kidding! That's your first choice, right?" he inquired.
"Umm-hmm."
"How did the parents take it?"
"Like shit," she mumbled. "I kinda expected it, though. We got into a fight before I left." Lizzy paused from her sketch briefly, letting out an exasperated sigh. "I just don't get it, Paul. They don't like my art, they don't like the way I dress…it's like I can't anything right." She went back to the drawing, hand moving furiously as she put the finishing touches on. Paul gestured for her to hand it to him, and she did so. It was a quick sketch, but very well done.
"I don't think you quite captured my drop-dead gorgeous looks, but…," Paul joked. Lizzy flipped him off.
Paul noticed the troubled appearance that was still lingering in her eyes at the thought of her parents. "Hey." he said quietly, "They're assholes to not see how talented you are, Lizzy. Don't worry about it. Art's what's important to you, and that's all that matters."
Lizzy fidgeted with the pencil that was in her hands. "I know," she said miserably. "But…I…It's weird. It's like the older I get, the farther apart I get from them. Sometimes, I get this feeling that I don't belong with them anymore. We're so different, Paul. They don't understand me."
"Sorry, Liz. My mom can't afford to adopt you."
She smacked him in the arm, lopsided grin on her face. "You're such an idiot."
"Yeah, but I'm your favorite idiot."
"Of course you are."
Lizzy laid back, throwing the pencil back into her bag. She stared up at the stars, a comfortable silence settling between them. She knew Paul would always let her vent about her problems, and he listened--and vice versa. That's why they were such great friends; they could basically tell each other everything. Lizzy closed her eyes, and began humming a melody that had been stuck in her head for the past week or so. She didn't know the words to the song, but she had heard the melody had been in her dreams.
"What song is that?" Paul asked.
"Hmm?"
"The song you're humming. What is it?"
"I don't really know…"
"Stupid question, but how do you not know what song you're humming?" he inquired. Lizzy shrugged.
"It's kind of hard to explain."
"Try me."
"Okay, but you're going to think I'm crazy," Lizzy laughed. She sat up, and Paul did so as well. "It's just some melody that I keep hearing in my dreams; it's constantly stuck in my head. It sounds so…familiar, but I can't place it. It's always a guy's voice singing it, too."
"Do you see this person in your dreams?" Paul wanted to know. He was intrigued by this.
"In a way, yeah," she replied. Catching sight of her friend's perplexed expression, she elaborated. "I see him, but not really. I see a lot of different people…things…places. They're always the same; connected, I think. But whatever I see, the images are sort of fuzzy. I don't get the full picture, just bits and pieces. When I see the people, their faces are blurred."
"That is weird," Paul agreed. "And these dreams are reoccurring?"
"For the most part they are," she admitted. "Every few weeks or so. I've had them for a few years."
Paul gawked at her. "Years? And you didn't tell me 'til now?"
"They didn't bother me until recently," Lizzy replied. "Now I just wanna find out what the hell they're all about."
"Ask your parents."
"That'll go over well. They'd send me to a shrink or something."
"Good point." Paul said. He felt bad that he couldn't do much to help her out.
Lizzy exhaled deeply. "Ugh, I'm sorry, Paul. I'm dumping my problems on you again."
"Don't be sorry," he told her. "It's what friends are for." He awkwardly patted her on the shoulder, withdrawing his hand rather fast. "Anyway…the humming was pretty good. You must be a great singer after all." Lizzy shrugged in that 'I don't know' way.
"Oh, c'mon. Don't give me that," Paul continued. "Sing me something."
"No way," Lizzy protested. Paul got to his feet, taking her sketchbook with him. He started walking away. "Paul, what're you doing?" Lizzy picked herself up off the ground, looking at him cautiously. Paul walked to the side of the roof, glanced at the sketchpad, and held it over the edge so it was dangling in midair over the street. Lizzy let out a panicked gasp, staring at him in horror. "Paul! Don't!" She crossed the distance between them in a few quick steps, grabbing his arm.
"Sing me something, Miss Lizzy, and I'll return the sketchbook safely back to you." He lowered the book slightly.
"You wouldn't!" she shouted, attempting to seize his arm again.
"I would."
"You bastard," she yelled, half-laughing, "Give it back."
"Why is it so difficult for you to just sing for me?"
Lizzy groaned, putting her hands on her hips. Paul was the one being difficult, not her, she thought. She stepped back, taking a deep breath. If he was going to be stubborn, then fine. But there was no way that Lizzy was going to let that sketchbook fall off the building.
"Look what you're doing, I'm feeling blue and lonely,
Would it be too much to ask of you,
What you're doing to me?"
Lizzy chimed, sending an irritated frown his way. He shook his head, knowing that he had been right all along--Lizzy's voice was beautiful. She took a guarded lunge at him, trying to swipe the book from his hand. Now he was just messing with her.
"You got me running and there's no fun in it,
Why should it be so much to ask of you,
What you're doing to me?
I've been waiting here for you,
Wond'ring what you're gonna do…"
"I'm not going to do anything…" Paul said sarcastically. He continued dangling the sketchpad in the air nonetheless.
"Please stop your lying, you've got me crying, boy,
Why should it be so much to ask of you,
What you're doing to me?
What you're doing to me…"
Lizzy took another jump at her friend, and Paul let her finally have her sketchpad, grinning. She held it against her chest tightly, protectively.
"See? I knew you had it in you." Paul declared smugly, as the two of them laid back down on the soft blanket. Lizzy put her sketchpad into her messenger bag, then placed her hands behind her head. She felt her eyes getting heavy with exhaustion. She let out a yawn and gazed up at the stars shimmering above them. Lizzy heard Paul's voice--most likely talking about the concert--but stopped paying attention to what he was saying. She caught one more glimpse of the night sky before drifting off to sleep.
-----------------------
The very next morning, Lizzy awoke to what sounded like birds chirping loudly. She still had her eyes closed, but noticed how bright it was--wherever she was. At first, she thought the birds were unnaturally close to her window, but she became aware of what she was lying down on, and it wasn't her bed. And she wasn't at home, in her room. Lizzy's eyes opened, and she found herself staring up at the afternoon sky; the sun was directly over her, so it had to be somewhere around noon. She watched the fluffy, white clouds floating against the vivid blue, and suddenly everything came back to her. She had, in fact, fallen asleep on Paul's apartment building roof.
If that wasn't awkward enough, Lizzy discovered that sometime during the period of when she had been asleep, she had rolled over closer to her friend. Her head was most definitely lying on his chest, and somehow his arm had moved so it was resting over her hip, almost protectively. She had never been in such a compromising position with her best friend in all the years that they'd known each other. So, it was extremely awkward. Lizzy sat bolt upright, almost smacking Paul in the face. He sat up, too, disoriented and groggy.
"What time is it?" he slurred, watching through half-closed eyes as she got up.
"I have no idea," Lizzy told him, worry evident in her voice. "Shit…shit, I'm in trouble."
Paul managed to get to his feet, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "It'll be fine, Lizzy."
"No. No, it won't," she said, flinging her messenger bag over her head, grabbing the keys to her dad's car. "I have to get my ass home. Thank you for inviting me to the concert, Paul. I had a lot of fun." She called the last part to him while she made her way toward the door.
"Call me later to let me know you're okay." he ordered.
"Will do!"
Lizzy drove home muttering a string of profanities the entire way. She couldn't believe that she had let herself fall asleep there. Her parents would ground her for the remainder of her high school career, she was sure of it. They'd know that she had lied about where she had gone last night. Lizzy wasn't looking forward to the lecture awaiting her.
Unfortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Harrison were pacing in the living room when she stepped inside the house. Mr. Harrison appeared distraught and a bit angry, while Mrs. Harrison looked as if she had been crying. Once she saw Lizzy enter the house, she approached her daughter, more tears streaming down her face.
"Elizabeth, where have you been?" she demanded, clutching her handkerchief.
"We've been worried sick about you," Mr. Harrison added, walking over, grey eyes carrying a hint of fury. "You never called to say when you'd be coming home. We thought something had happened to you."
"I'm sorry," the teenager apologized glumly. "I fell asleep at my friend's house."
"Well, you should've called, young lady," Mrs. Harrison snapped. There was a considerable pause before she spoke again. "You were with that boy--Paul--weren't you?"
Lizzy didn't answer right away. She was somewhat afraid. Then, she figured it was best to tell the truth now that the shit was going to hit the fan anyway, so to speak. She had a strong feeling that this argument was going to be worse than all the rest.
"Yeah, I was with him," she said slowly. "I don't know why you care."
"The fact is that you lied to us, Elizabeth," Mr. Harrison stated. "and we can't exactly trust you anymore."
"Fine," Lizzy retorted. "I don't give a damn anyway. I just don't see why all of sudden you care about what I'm doing with my life. You don't exactly support me in other things I do."
"What are you talking about? Of course we care." Mrs. Harrison said firmly.
"No, you don't! If you did, you wouldn't be so pissed at me for applying to an art school and actually getting accepted. I worked my ass off to get in. Other kids' parents would be excited--but oh no, not you two." She threw her hands up in frustration. She could feel the burning sensation in her eyes and the back of her throat, but managed to keep the tears inside. "I don't get why you hate me so much."
Oddly, Lizzy discerned that her mother's angry stare turned to one of sympathy and guilt. She shared a weird glance with Lizzy's father, one that left the seventeen-year-old confused. Mrs. Harrison put a hand on her shoulder, eyes glassy with new tears.
"We don't hate you, Elizabeth. Don't say that," she said softly. "You're just different, sweetheart. Ever since you became this opinionated, rebellious, talented teenager, your father and I haven't been able to connect with you. And I know you've probably noticed this." Lizzy nodded in agreement. She had noticed quite a bit.
Mr. Harrison let out a nervous sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Elizabeth, your mother and I were talking after that little fight we had with you yesterday. And…we've decided that we should discuss something with you that we should've a long time ago."
Lizzy looked back and forth from her father to her mother a few times, cerulean eyes filled with perplexity. She didn't know that what her parents were about to tell her would definitely change her world forever…